I wake up at 3:00am sharp in my villa at The Waldorf Astoria Maldives Ithaafushi.
I know I need to get some sleep before we dive tomorrow – today? But there is no fighting jet lag. I won’t get back to sleep. Careful not to wake my partner or our friends, I slip out of bed and through the mercifully silent sliding door.
Before I even shut the door, my senses come alive. A steady lapping of waves shushes against the villa. A salty breeze encircles me. The infinity pool to my left remains undisturbed – the surface a glassy mirror of inky sky and scattered stars. I glance up to see them directly, in awe of how vast the sky is. After so much travel, I feel as if I am teetering on the edge of the world. Like I have reached a place where time is a suggestion and not a guiding force.
The Maldives is beautiful in a way that makes the word “beautiful” sound inadequate. Breathtaking? No, that’s not enough either. Surreal?
I hope a better word will come to me as I shuffle further out to the edge of the outdoor patio onto an overwater hammock. I want to be closer to the ocean. Well… I want to be IN the ocean but it’s not time to dive yet. I look out at the small lights of overwater villas dotting the horizon. Obviously, no sign of the sun yet.
I glance down and freeze.
A massive spotted eagle ray hunts only a few feet beneath me, loping along in search of the crabs desperately scrambling up columns supporting the villa. I scramble for my phone, but the large ray moves on before I can get a picture. Luckily five seconds later a stingray – a Cowtail, I think – scoots beneath me to take its place!
Alive. That’s the word I was searching for as I watch the stingray snuffle up a crab who couldn’t scramble away in time. This entire place is beautiful in a way that is achingly alive. Fox bats flying around low enough that I can see the blue of the sky in the delicate stretch of their wings. Parrotfish in turquoise water circling to form a ring of glinting rainbow. From the stars above me to the polka dots scattered across the ray’s wings below me, this whole environment – and I – are so alive.
I flew halfway around the world to scuba dive with a purpose. In a matter of hours, I will participate in coral restoration hands on with the Waldorf Astoria in-house marine biologist. This opportunity is so incredible I can barely wrap my jetlagged mind around it.
I lay face down on the hammock and watch the ray intently until at some point it, and I, drift off.
We are at the Waldorf Astoria dive shop ready for our pre-brief with Katalina (the Waldorf’s marine biologist) and Salma (our dive instructor). I can barely contain my excitement (probably all the espresso kicking in) as we start out by discussing coral.
Kat asks, “What is coral?” I eagerly answer, “An animal that is besties with algae!” We all laugh.
She agrees, explaining the genus of coral we will deal with today (Pocillopora and Acropora) and then asks, “Why are coral important?”
My friends and partner know I have been researching this all year and graciously let me answer again, “They are a keystone species, support an abundance of marine life, have vast economic impact, protect landmasses, and have potential within the field of medicine!” I am Hermione Granger and coral is my magic.
The topic then turns to coral bleaching, and why reef restoration is so important. I have been worried about coral reefs for years. All 2024 I followed the news as the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration confirmed a fourth global coral bleaching event was underway. I agonized about what we would see when we arrived in the Maldives. I wondered if planting a few corals would actually make a difference, or if anything I do ultimately matters when it comes to climate change. Can a single person make any difference at all in the face of problems on a global scale? I reduce, reuse, recycle, drive less (when possible), support environmentally friendly organizations and do what I can. But it is so easy to feel like none of it makes an impact at all.
This will be a shore dive along the Waldorf House Reef. As we suit up in our dive gear I think about what this means to me. Volunteering and signing up for a dive to participate in coral restoration is a tangible way to take action. It is more than an act of service. This is a desperate act of hope. I want to believe I can do something, anything, that leaves this aspect of the environment improved from how I found it. This is deeply personal to me, because I am a painter who is inspired to make art of the underwater environment I encounter on my dives.
When I question the futility of making art to raise awareness of the beauty of the ocean (and the need to preserve, conserve and restore it) I remind myself that I am called to do this no matter the outcome. Whether I see the steep decline and demise of coral in my lifetime or not, I will still make my art. Maybe, if there is nothing left one day, my art can be used to help experience what was once so alive.
But we are here to dive, not to draw, and I am snapped out of my reverie as we wade deeper into the water along the shore. Kat reminds us we will begin our dive by moving along the reef to a spot where she will demonstrate coral fragmentation beneath the water. We will tie strings around the fragments, place them in a bucket held by Salma, and then transport the coral to the frame floating slightly further up the reef. Once at the frame, we will tidy it with brushes and lastly tie the coral on the frame.
We are clear on our mission for the dive, and we descend.
Kat promptly gets to work fragmenting corals once we are at depth, handing one to each of us. I have always been paranoid about never touching the coral on my dives. I am not prepared for the feeling that encompasses me when I hold a coral for the first time. Earlier Kat explained how sensitive coral are – “like the surface of an eye”- and I cradle my coral in my palms with the same care I would if I was holding my infant nephew. My eyes well up with tears as I look at this beautiful fragment – it’s mustard yellow with a tinge of lavender. Intricate patterns wrap like lace all along its body. I am shocked by how hard it is to tie a knot underwater but manage to wrap a cord snug around my fragments and place each in Salma’s bucket.
The dive proceeds quickly. As we return back up the reef we spot a bizarre ultramarine velvet snail along the way. I can’t decide if he looks like a toy jack or a Pokemon, but I feel he is cheering us on as we pass by. We swim further out from the reef, and my eyes widen when out of the blue the frame appears suspended in the water column.
I feel like I am an aquanaut in a bizarre space sci-fi, floating serenely to an octahedral cage with lines running through its square center. There are already corals flourishing on the lines. We eagerly get to work cleaning the frame with sturdy toothbrushes. I am determined my coral will have the tidiest spot to thrive, and I vigorously scrub until I am in a cloud of sediment. It clears quickly in the gentle current. Kat hands me my fragments one by one to tie onto my line on the frame. My attempts are awkward, but I get the job done. Each coral fragment now dangles evenly spaced securely on the line.
I drift backwards to make space for my dive buddies to take their turn. I marvel at this experience. Led by these two amazing women in marine science, we have been educated and empowered to help restore the reef. Our little fragments hanging on their lines in this coral nursery will grow until they are ready to be replanted into the reef.
My heart is so full and I realize, I am a coral gardener!
It is one thing to cherish the marine environment, to be drawn inexplicably to water no matter where you go. It is another to create a small role for oneself in marine conservation. As we begin our ascent from our dive and hover during our safety stop, I don’t question whether I can make any sort of outward difference in the face of climate change. I realize planting these fragments of coral has made a difference in me, and I know that difference is enough.
Enough to inspire me to do it all again, to write this article, to create art from the sheer joy of the experience. This trip widened my diving community and increased my knowledge of conservation tenfold. Until now I had no idea luxury brands like the Waldorf Astoria were putting their weight behind sustainability and conservation or establishing eco-partnerships with organizations like Parley Maldives. I had no idea until now that you could travel and vacation in a way that was tangibly supportive of the environment – that experiences to participate in something so meaningful existed.
For me scuba diving is more than an adventure – it is an opportunity to belong to an entire community of people with a lifestyle that connects to our planet in deeply meaningful ways. We step out of our air-breathing comfort zone above water and into a world where we feel every ounce of our aliveness. Underwater we are more than ourselves, a part of something greater. A part of something that existed long before us, and which I hope will last long after I am gone.
As we break through the surface of the ocean from our dive and trudge back to shore, I am all smiles. How many coral polyps form a coral? Hundreds? Thousands? If tiny animals can form magnificent underwater structures able to be seen from space, maybe I shouldn’t underestimate what we are capable of. What I am capable of. Perhaps we can make more of a difference than we think. One small action at a time.
